Not soon enough
by ImagineWriteCreate
Summary: Who was Tom Marvolo Riddle? Who is he know?


**Disclaimer:** Rowlings owns all. Well, Cynthia is an OC but Rowlings can have her as well.

Who was Tom Marvolo Riddle?

A helpless little boy for a woman working at the orphanage, an awful boy that stole all good toys for other boys growing up with him, an excellent, clever and ambitious student for his teachers at Hogwarts or a beautiful Slytherin to date for so many girls...

In one way or another, Tom did manage to affect everyone around him.

He was, after all, ambitious, clever, determined and sly. A wizard of his word, one that would get whatever he desired, no matter what.

He was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

But to her, he was so much more. And this is their story.

Her name was Cynthia. She came to Hogwarts one year later than him and she was sorted into Ravenclaw, although the Sorting Hat considered Hufflepuff as well. That was something she never told him, as they met years later, when he was in his fifth year and Cynthia, in her fourth.

They met during the Christmas break. Students from all four houses headed to their families, to celebrate.

There were many who stayed behind as well. Because of friends or lovers, because of lack of studying or, in his case, lack of family, students stayed at Hogwarts, deciding to celebrate with friends or just to take a break from the busy school year.

That's how Tom met her, Cynthia, when he was once heading to the library in hope of finding a book he spotted early in September, a book that had never been available ever since.

Once inside, she, or rather the book she was holding, was the first thing he saw.

_Dark Magic and Wizards who Practiced them Throughout History _. A long title for the long history the book contained.

Tom had waited for a long time; he decided he could wait no longer. So he determinedly walked to the bench she sat at and, with the nicest voice he could manage, asked, "Mind if I sit here?"

Brown eyes looked up at him from the booklet, and shook her head in approval.

By that time, Tom was already seated next to her.

"Interested by dark magic, are we?" he asked, determined to get his book.

"It's for Defence Against the Dark Arts," she explained, although her tone did not sound quite convincing.

"So I've heard. It is quite an interesting book, too bad it's the only copy."

"Is it?"

"I've been trying to get it ever since September."

This time she partially shut the manual, keeping a finger between the two covers, so she'd know where she stopped reading once she lost interest in their conversation.

"I don't think _you_ have schoolwork to attend to with this book. Riddle, is it?"

"What do you know, I've got quite a reputation around here. Yet I can't seem to remember your name..."

"Cynthia. You can have the book once I'm finished with it."

"And that'll be..."

"Soon enough," she retorted, eyes once again preoccupied by the book.

"Fine for me. So tell me Cynthia, don't you have a family name?"

"Cynthia Crouch."

He leaned in slightly. "Pure blood?"

"Would it make any difference?"

"Are you?"

"I am. How about you?"

Tom eventually answered after a short pause, with a voice a bit less insecure, "Yes, my mother was a pure blood."

Which was entirely true. But to avoid any questions about his father, he hurriedly added, "What are you doing this Saturday?"

As she looked up surprisingly from the book, he resisted the urge to slap himself. It was possibly the worst question he could've asked.

"I am.." she looked into his eyes," I'm probably going to walk around with friends just talk, and stuff."

At the sight or her slightly flushed cheeks, Tom was reminded of the effect he seemed to have on some girls and quickly gained more confidence.

Then, shutting the book she put on the table, he asked her if she'd like to walk around with him.

"Yes, okay." she nodded.

"Well then," he said, standing up, "Meet me Saturday, right after dinner, in front of the Ravenclaw common room."

And when he headed to the big doors, Tom heard the noise of a creaking chair, then her voice, whispering, "What day is today?"


End file.
